


i am yours, you are mine

by SirenDreams



Series: crooked smiles [1]
Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, Prompt Fill, Slight Angst (if you squint), Soulmates, dealing with FEELINGS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:06:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29338008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirenDreams/pseuds/SirenDreams
Summary: When an outing goes amiss and both parties end up injured, Frank and Annette make a discovery that shocks them both: they’re soulmates.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Original Female Character(s)
Series: crooked smiles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154960
Kudos: 3





	i am yours, you are mine

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt “the one where soulmates can heal each other's wounds” requested by @geronimo-11 on tumblr.

He may have set it aside for the duration of their trek back to Annette’s apartment, but Frank is far from over her actions. 

He’s furious.

“Hey.” Annette lifts her head as she carefully pulls her jacket off— the gash on her upper arm having soaked the sleeve with blood. “What the fuck were you thinking, huh? Throwing yourself into danger like that? They could’ve killed you. Put a bullet right through your skull.”

“Saved your life, didn’t I?”

Frank scowls, mouth set into a thin line with her words doing little to quell his anger at her recklessness and the fear still pumping through his veins at the thought of losing her.

“It was stupid.” He bites out, shaking his head as he looks her over. “I’m not worth it, and you shouldn’t have done it.”

“You,” Annette stomps forwards, blue eyes burning with anger as she stops before him. “Don’t have authority over how other people feel, Frank Castle. You can think what I did was stupid and reckless until the day you die, I don’t care. What I do care about is that you’re alive and that you’ve got a wound I need to take care of so shut up, hold still, and let me tend to it.”

Frank opens his mouth to utter a retort, slightly chastised but finds himself speechless when her fingertips brush the edge of the wound— the bullet that had been lodged in his shoulder dropping to the floor with a metallic ping, and rolling across the hardwood. Annette stares for a moment, frozen in place, before she rushes into action— grabbing the hem of his shirt and yanking it up without waiting for approval.

“Hey!”

“I don’t understand...” She murmurs, running a tentative hand over the smooth unmarred skin where there had been a fresh wound only moments before; now only a shiny pink scar and a small smear of blood any indication that the wound had existed at all. “How did...” Annette stops suddenly, the realization hitting her full force as she lets go of Frank’s shirt and takes a faltering step back.

“Frank,” she whispers, eyes wide. “you’re my soulmate.”

Frank reacts as if she’d struck him, taking a step back and landing on the couch with a thud. “Don’t say that.”

“Frank—“

“I was married, Annette. Had a wife I loved more than anything in the world. Besides, you deserve better than someone like me.”

“Not saying it doesn’t make it not true, Frank.” Annette’s words are soft but Frank scoffs all the same, shaking his head as she sits beside him. “People don’t always meet their soulmates right away, you know. And just because you loved someone other than your soulmate doesn’t make your previous relationships invalid.”

“Annette—“

“Besides, maybe you’re my soulmate and... maybe you already met yours.” She forces a smile, though he can see the pain the thought brings her hanging heavy in her eyes. “One way to find out?” She offers, waving a hand to her arm, still bleeding and unattended to. “Just touch the edge, like I did to your wound. If it stays the way it is then we’ll know it’s not you.”

Frank hesitates a moment, watching for any indication that she’d change her mind and— when she remains resolute— takes hold of her injured arm with one hand and runs his fingers across the edge of the wound in the barest brush possible. The wound knits together before his eyes, leaving naught but a shiny pink scar. He runs his fingers over it, still holding onto her arm and meeting her gaze with a perplexed one of his own. 

“So, where do we go from here?”


End file.
